And What Of Love?
by battyderp
Summary: Lucius Vorenus has an infamous temper, and at times it seems Titus Pullo is the only one able to calm him.


_A/N: Hello, my lovelies! So, this was something I suddenly wrote in my head while I was lying awake one night, and quickly jotted it down the next day on paper. I had so much fun writing this, and I can honestly say Vorenus and Pullo are the best characters to write for I have ever encountered. You wouldn't expect that ahaha. So, I hope you enjoy, and review if you like. Sorry, it's a bit long! (;_

_Naturally, I don't own the amazing 'Rome'._

_xx_

_I hate you._

Lucius Vorenus exploded into his office, slamming the door shut behind him with such force the entire wall shook. For a long moment, he stood motionless in the middle of the room, staring out the window that overlooked the rooftops, arms held rigidly by his side as he fought for control. Finally, he turned and stalked towards his desk, lashing out a hand and sending a ceramic vase shattering onto the ground below. He had to do something to vent his fury, lest he should take a knife in hand and take it out on the first, unfortunate person he encountered.

Fingers gripping the edge of his desk so tight his knuckles turned an alarming white, Lucius sat down heavily in his chair. He was all but shaking with the pent up anger and the tears he refused to shed. Vorena hated him. Oh, he would give her something to hate him for. No. What was that Pullo had been attempting – more-or-less without success – to teach him? Calm. What use was fucking calm now? He was a monster. But, alas, a part of him, the sane part, realised Niobe would still be alive, had he mastered the art of being calm a few years ago.

Burying his face in his hands, finger tips digging painfully into his hairline, he shook his head. His breaths were coming in gasps, sharp intakes of air through his nose. "No use dwelling on what could have been," he growled into his palms. Vorena reminded him so much of his late wife, so much so he could imagine her exact words going through Niobe's mind. With a shuddering breath, Lucius dragged his fingers down his face before finally bringing them to rest on the table. He glanced out the window once more, jaw grinding, blood pounding in his ears. _I hate you, I hate you, I wish you were dead._ Her daughter's words played over and over in his head, until he thought they would surely drive him mad.

"She's just upset."

Lucius stiffened, but did not turn his head. He had been too distracted to notice the arrival of his friend. What kind of a soldier was he? That was when it dawned on him. Friend? He, Lucius Vorenus, was certainly no friend material. He was awkward sometimes, angry the rest. He was not worthy of the honour. Shaking his head again, he replied through gritted teeth, glad when his voice did not come out as a yell, "You're a damned fool, Pullo. Always have been."

Glancing to the side, his blue eyes found Titus Pullo. "There, don't you feel better now?" he asked, walking forward from where he had been lurking in the doorway, drumming a beat on the frame. "I heard somewhere you have to let all your aggression out. Get it out'a your system, you know?"

Vorenus chuckled bitterly, elbows resting on his desk and fingers laced together in an attempt to distract Pullo from his shaking. "You heard what she said," he answered, eyes following his friend as he paced around the room, "She hates me. My own daughter _hates_ me." Once more, he laughed, shaking his head. "And she has every right to."

"No!" Pullo exclaimed, turning to face him, eyes huge as though such a notion was impossible.

"Yes."

"Bah!" The other man waved him off, returning to wandering aimlessly around the room, trailing his fingers across the wall. At one point, he touched a small, wooden figurine and accidentally sent it tumbling to the ground. He glanced over his shoulder guiltily at Vorenus, who simply perked an eyebrow in response. As though unwilling to give his friend time to make a sarcastic remark or chastise him, Pullo continued on, seeming as though he were the world authority on the topic, "She's just being a woman, Vorenus. They are strange one minute, then, just when you think things can't get any worse, they're even more confusing! Don't know why. The Gods didn't give us the ability to understand them, that's for sure. Anyroad, she didn't mean it. Just bein' a woman." He shrugged, nodding once as though proud of his logic.

Vorenus heaved a sigh. "You… Talk too much."

Pullo pointed the figurine he had since collected from the floor at him, smiling faintly. "If I kept a tally for every time you said that…" He trailed off, pausing for a moment before finishing, turning away once more. "Well, I would sure do something."

"Oh? I was not aware you could count, Pullo."

The other man glanced over his shoulder, jaw gaping despite the fact he was grinning. "Oi!" he exclaimed, feigning indignation. If he had already had a thick skin before he met Vorenus and his quick, all-too-blunt tongue, then his skin was practically made of iron now. He knew better than to take anything his friend said in moments of anger to heart. "Okay, I'll give you that. You're upset."

Lucius' head snapped up from where he had been lazily studying his friend (though his definition of 'lazy' was something akin to a hawk observing prey by anyone else's standards). "I am not upset!" he boomed, eyes wide and filled with menace. It was now that anyone else would be backing down and hastily making their retreat. But Titus Pullo knew better than that. "I care not what she thinks. I am her father; she shall do as I command. She had no right to have spoken as she did." More lies.

It hurt him more than he even realised, and certainly more than he was ever willing to admit, even to himself. There was a strange pain in his chest, one that had been there since Niobe's death, but that had now strengthened so it was almost unbearable, as though it had built up its courage and struck when he was weak. He had given his children everything, and this was how they repaid him? Granted, he had not always been the perfect father – indeed, he had, at most times, been insufferable – but he had tried. Oh, how he had tried. Did they not know how much he loved them? No, how could they? He never told them so.

Pullo raised his arms over his head in mock submission, a smirk playing at his lips. "Whatever you say, sir." Vorenus could not deny the satisfaction he felt at being addressed so, even now. Even if he never fully realised it, he liked the power he held over Pullo, first as his ranking officer, now as head of the Aventine. If he barked an order, Pullo would snap to attention against his will, so drilled into him were the strict laws of the army, even if he was a brute that followed no one's rules but his own.

Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the door being thrown open in a fashion only one of the Vorenii clan could muster. She was truly his daughter, whether or not she accepted it; she had his infamous temper to show for it. Pullo stepped back to allow her to past, straightening and eyeing her cautiously. Vorenus held his ground, drawing in a breath and attempting to appear the very picture of confidence, undeterred by the wrath of a mere woman. If only it were so.

"Oh, and here's that damned elephant carving you gifted my brother with," Vorena snapped, storming toward his desk and throwing it down. He resisted the urge to flinch, instead tightening his grip on the edge of the chair, out of sight of anyone else in the room. With that, his daughter turned and promptly left his office with the same hostility she had entered it with.

Eyes crazed, Vorenus searched the room for a moment, hoping for some relief. When none came, he slammed his fists down against the desk, leaping from his chair so its legs scraped against the floor. He was faintly aware of Pullo's grimace. "The insolence…" At first, he was yelling, his face flushed with fury and indignation. But with some effort, he averted his gaze, jaw clenched, and let out a long sigh, finishing his sentence in an eerily quiet voice, clearly struggling for composure, "The insolence of that girl!"

"Perhaps you should beat her," Pullo offered earnestly, shrugging as though he had no control over what he was saying. When Vorenus' head abruptly snapped up to set him with a manic glare, he saw Pullo swallow and drop his gaze uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck and clearly wishing he had remained silent. When Lucius Vorenus got like this, he was no longer anyone's friend. It was clear to all that he became blinded by fury, unable to control what he said or did. Lucius was aware that people knew this, and though most gang leaders would take it as a chance to assert their dominance and strike fear into the hearts of their enemies, he was deeply ashamed of it. The Gods had certainly cursed him, and he was not doing a very good job at learning to overcome their challenge.

Vorenus started forward, arms held rigidly by his side and fists clenched. His head jutted forward as it so often did when he was trying to intimidate people. "Perhaps I should beat her?" he echoed, voice practically a roar. He continued to advance on the other man.

"Now, now," Pullo was clearly trying to calm his friend, speaking in that tone he had once told Vorenus to use on Niobe, the voice one would use when putting a saddle on a spooked horse. He was no spooked horse! He was Lucius Vorenus! He was the Son of Hades. "I only meant—"

He was cut off by one of Vorenus' fists hurtling towards him. Possessing rather fine reflexes for a man his size, Pullo caught the former-Centurion's wrist in one hand, twisting his arm painfully; Vorenus had faced worse, and spared a brief moment to be irritated with himself at under-estimating Titus Pullo. He should know better than that by now. Lucius tried unsuccessfully to yank himself free, before taking another swing at him with his other arm. Once more, Pullo caught him. Usually, it was a blessing to be of smaller stature than his opponents, giving him leave to dart between them like a swift snake. Now, however, it was anything but.

Now with both wrists seized in an iron grip, though it was apparent Pullo was only holding him enough to keep him at bay, not to do him any serious harm, Vorenus attempted to head-butt him, to no avail. The other man jerked back at the last second, leaving Lucius panting and struggling without success. "Let go of me!" he demanded, raising his head to set Pullo with a glare, as though hoping he suddenly possessed Medusa's powers.

Fuming, Lucius closed the small distance between himself and his captor. Pullo remained where he was, expression a mixture of sorrow at having to do this to the man he considered his brother, triumph at having the upper-hand, and cold anger, as if this was becoming nothing more than another battle with an enemy. Vorenus stuck his face into Pullo's, so close he could feel his laboured breathing hot on his skin. With deliberate slowness, he growled, "I said—" But before he could finish, Pullo's lips brushed against his own, like the fleeting wings of a butterfly, an accident due to their close proximity.

In unison, they both jumped back, Vorenus' wrists once again free, unscathed albeit the red mark that Pullo's tight, unrelenting grip had imprinted on his skin. Pullo looked anywhere but his friend's startled eyes, turning away awkwardly and running his fingers through his short, brown hair, the other hand on his hip. Lucius could see his shoulders heaving as he fought for breath, before he, too, turned away, stalking an entire circle around his desk before finally coming to rest against the front of it, facing Pullo. He only hoped the idiot could feel his scorching glare boring into his back.

Blinded by red-hot anger and not knowing what he was doing, Lucius stormed forward, fastening his fingers on Pullo's shoulder and spinning him around to face him. He could feel his lip twitching slightly as he slammed the other man roughly up against the wall, showing no mercy. Pullo barely had time to stare at him in confusion and ask, "what are you—", before Vorenus's lips were crushed against his. It was an angry, powerful kiss, one that took Pullo a moment before he was returning it in full.

Lucius had no idea what was happening. He could honestly say he had never before thought of this, never fantasised about it like he had with Niobe. He loved Pullo like a brother, certainly, but nothing more than that. It was insanity. Yet insanity that somehow managed to feel so _good_.

Finally, when neither could keep the kiss going, lest they should faint from lack of oxygen, Pullo used an elbow to push Vorenus from him, unable to draw back due to the wall behind his head. Reluctantly, Lucius obliged, but made no effort to conceal the glare that still marked his face. "What, so first you insult me, try to punch me, - twice, mind you – then you kiss me?" Pullo teased, eyes wide and mischievous, and certainly shocked. He always did try to hide it with jokes and banter, something Lucius still found immensely tedious at times, though, at others, it did offer some relief from stress. He wasn't sure whether it was working now, however, or simply creating more.

"Silence!" Vorenus snarled, and he felt Pullo shudder, no doubt as a result of his mouth and deep voice so close to his ear. Shifting an arm from where it had still been clutching the other man's shoulder, he placed it up against Pullo's neck, just enough to send a warning, not enough to choke him. Lowering his voice, he added, "And cease your damned squirming."

Once more, they were locked in a kiss, but this time it seemed to be Pullo that was the angry one. He seized Vorenus' lower lip between his teeth; but it was not a playful nip as Niobe had so often done, but instead a bite, enough to be painful – a little harder and he could rip it clean off. But all it did was draw a little blood that trickled down Lucius' chin, smearing against Pullo's. Vorenus growled in warning, to which Pullo merely chuckled, a sound which was lost in Lucius' mouth. Over and over again, he chanted in his head, _what am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing? _Yet still he had no answer. It was indeed difficult to draw conclusions with a mind so foggy and disoriented. He knew he should stop, he _knew_ that. Yet a part of him was afraid to use logic at that moment, should he force himself to back away.

Taking Vorenus by complete surprise – he had been half expecting Pullo to do something stupid, but not this – the former Legionary grabbed the neck of Lucius' simple brown tunic and threw him easily to the ground with a dull thud, following him. By some miracle, his spine remained unbroken, but even so, Vorenus let out enraged cry of, "Idiot brute!"

Pullo grinned from where he crouched over the other man, one hand on the floor on either side of Vorenus' head. "Shortarse redhead," he shot back.

Not one to admit defeat so easily, Lucius curled his hand into a fist once more and struck Pullo in the stomach, his head inclined as though studying his reaction. When Pullo wheezed, Vorenus took his chance and secured his hands once more on the other man's shoulders, rolling him off of him with such strength one would not think he possessed at first glance, or indeed second. With Pullo now lying on his back with little resistance, Lucius swung his leg over his stomach, crouching there so he could look down on Pullo from his vantage point. Amusement danced in the larger man's – of both girth, height and weight – pale blue eyes, and he could practically hear his thoughts, _'not bad for such a little thing'_.

Vorenus did not see Pullo's fist that smashed into his lower back, forcing his legs to buckle beneath him and his entire body to crash down onto Pullo's. He was just about to snap out an insult and scramble back up when the other man seemed to read his thoughts and wrap an arm around Lucius' waist. For a split second, Vorenus thought he was going to cry. Such a simple action, the fastening of an arm around one's waist, yet it was one Niobe had once done to him. _No. I am stronger than this. I must not tarnish Niobe's memory. _

Just as he was preparing to leave, Pullo raised his head to meet him, but this time the kiss was more gentle, loving, warm and soft and safe without blood or violence. Vorenus realised he had missed his mouth. Pullo broke free for a moment to cover Lucius' jawline in kisses and tender caresses, and Vorenus had to resist the overpowering urge to purr. Purr. Fucking _purr_. Oh, he would not give Pullo the pleasure of knowing he had gotten to him. It was so unlike him, and he couldn't exactly say he enjoyed feeling so vulnerable, and yet…

Finally, they broke apart, chests heaving and rising up to meet each other. For a moment, they remained silent, simply staring at each other as though searching each other's eyes for clues and answers, anything to justify what they had just done. Then Pullo outright laughed, making Vorenus recoil in surprise and confusion, frowning and narrowing his eyes. But, after a moment, he, too, chuckled despite himself.

Rolling off of Pullo, he found himself once more on his back, head resting on his friend's outstretched arm, staring up at the ceiling as his mind spun and reality began to seep back into his mind once more. He picked at his fingers as they lay on his chest, unsettled and yet still in a strange state of bliss. His anger had since faded, yet he could not remember when it had done so.

For a long moment, neither spoke, before Pullo eventually broke the silence, as he so often did. Vorenus would have been concerned if he had not, and was slightly relieved that he could focus on the other's voice instead of his whirling thoughts. He was glad he was lying down, should he be knocked over by the force of them. He had been unfaithful to Niobe, no matter whether she be dead or alive. And he would never forgive himself for that.

"So," Pullo began, sounding completely at home, "When we were sent to find Caesar's stolen eagle all those moons ago, and I said, 'don't you like women?'. And do you remember what you said? You replied," for this, Pullo put on an unnaturally deep voice, and Vorenus had to deny himself the roll of his eyes that begged to make itself known, "'Of course I do. I'm married to one'." He hesitated, before letting out a laugh that sounded strangely triumphant, his voice returning to normal. Vorenus barely managed to refrain from hitting him, blood beginning to boil once more as Pullo continued, throwing up the arm that Lucius was not lying on.

For a flicker of a second, he wondered if he was giving his friend a dead arm, and if he should perhaps move. _No. He _should_ be in pain for this._ Yet a part of him knew it was all his fault; but if he admitted that, if he didn't put the blame on someone else, then he would surely lose his mind, plagued by guilt and regret. Could he really regret this, though? Then Pullo finished and all thoughts vanished from his mind. "You lied!"

Vorenus turned his head to face him; Pullo's arm was warm beneath the bare skin of his neck, and he had to remind himself to not be moronic enough to fool himself into thinking he was safe and secure, for just a moment. He could smell Pullo's sweat. "I did no such thing," he retorted, and he could feel Pullo's disbelieving grunt as it vibrated against his side. What he had just said was the first truth he had spoken all day, possibly all month, all year. "This is…" He struggled to find the words, shaking his head and tilting his head back so he was once again staring at the ceiling. His fingers stretched upwards in a gesture of defeat and uncertainty as he searched his clouded mind. "I've only ever had eyes for _women_."

Pullo nodded vigorously, seemingly relieved that he wasn't the only once facing inner turmoil. It somewhat surprised Lucius, and he inwardly chastised himself for thinking so little of the brave man beside him once more, who was more intelligent than he gave him credit for, or, for that matter, that Pullo gave _himself_ credit for. "Well, me too, aye? See, you don't have a cunny."

"Fantastic observation, Pullo," Vorenus chuckled, perking his eyebrows. "Your sleuth skills are the envy of Rome."

With that, Lucius rolled off of the other's arm and clambered to his feet, stumbling for a moment before he found his balance. It was unlike the usually sure-footed soldier. He heard Pullo prop himself up with one elbow so he was lying sideways. "Where are you going?" Was that… _Disappointment_ in his tone?

Vorenus did not turn around, did not want to face Pullo's expression should he succumb to further weakness. He attempted to make his words harsh and cold, but they came out confused, desperate, strained, as they had been when he had verbally abused Pullo after he murdered Eirene's would-be-husband, his _property_. He felt a surge of anger at the thought, but forced it down. They did have their tempers in common, that was for sure. "This was a mistake. It shall never happen again. You are never to speak of it, should I be forced to cut out your tongue. Do you understand me?"

The other man laughed, and he heard him flop back down onto his back. "What a pity, when there are so many other things you could do with my tongue." As crude as ever. So why did his mocking words send goosebumps racing up and down Vorenus' spine and arms? He absently rubbed his arms in an effort to rid himself of them.

"Pullo!" he snapped, glancing over his shoulder to set him with a glare.

"I rather enjoyed it," Pullo continued as though no one else had spoken, as though he were in his own little world.

"Sons of Dis!" Lucius pivoted on one heel, chest heaving as he sucked in a breath to steady himself, fists clenched. Slowly, they loosened as he closed his eyes. When he opened them and spoke once more, his voice was soft, but far from soothing. More filled to the brim with untold emotion that he had to keep at bay. "Promise, you big oaf."

The other man once again held up his hands in mock submission, seeming to reason this was not the time to tease his friend. "Fine, fine. Calm down." Lucius had to stop himself for snorting at the irony; telling him to calm down was how this whole mess had started. "I promise. Swear on my mother's grave." He knew how much his mother had meant to him, and still did. Lucius always felt inexplicably guilty whenever his friend spoke of the dead woman, and so had opted long ago to instead say nothing when he spoke of her.

Swallowing, Vorenus nodded, and for a long moment silence filled the room, disturbed only by their breathing and the sounds of the tavern they owned below. He had almost forgotten they were not alone, and felt his cheeks and neck flush, thankful it would not be noticeable through the deep shade of red that was already plastered on his face. So why was Pullo staring at him like that? Why? _Stop it! Look away!_ "You had best leave now," he told him quietly, trying and failing to sound like the authority in this room that he was in the outside world.

Saying nothing, Pullo smiled and used one hand to push him to his feet with surprising agility for one so big. "Sir." With that, he turned to leave, brushing past Vorenus who refused to step out of the way, lest it should seem like it bothered him to be so close. But before he left the room, he turned and playfully slapped Lucius' arse with one hand. He jumped and spun around, ready to snap something at Pullo, but he had already disappeared through the door and down the stairs.

And as he stared at the closed door Pullo had left in his wake, something very peculiar happened. Lucius Vorenus smiled, but for once, it was real.


End file.
